I used to love the light. But now, I seek the dark desire for it to wrap me up in its warm, shadowy arms eclipse me on a bed of silken obscurity want it to guard me from the blinding light. [Companion to 'Silver is More Precious Than Gold', YnB x BR]

(A/N) Here ish a fun little drabbleish type companion piece to "Silver is More Precious than Gold" 'cause I thought it would be appropriate to get Ryou's viewpoint out…

I do not own Yuugiou.

I Will Wrap Myself in Darkness

By Hales731

I used to love the light. Everything about it would give me hope. Light can burn away all fears until nothing remains but the truth. The glimmering brilliance of it can bring things into perspective, illuminating falsehoods for what they are.

Surely, the light holds a certain purity that draws me to it. For this 'purity,' I am also considered a light.

But purity can be tainted; truths may be damaging, perspectives distorted, and fears revealed.

The light can expose faults; render imperfections, which should never be illuminated, visible. I hate the light for this, for there are some things that should be forgotten.

I no longer hold affection for light as I once did; I have found the dark far more comforting. Nothing is laid bare in the dark. Within the confines of inky obscurity, I am free to be that which I truly am. My weaknesses remain hidden from others.

Many believe that the dark can be harmful; that the dark would desire to hurt one of 'purity' like myself. I have never come to harm by the dusky hands of the dark. In fact, the dark comforts me; hiding me from that which I fear; blackening out my nightmares from memory.

Some believe that the dark is cold, similar to the absolute freezing temperatures that are the inky jet of space. Darkness is never cold. Chilly maybe, like the refreshing coolness of a desert night after the onslaught of the sun has diminished, but never has the dark been cold.

I seek the dark; desire for it to wrap me up in its warm, shadowy arms; eclipse me on a bed of silk and obscurity; crave for it to smother me with the heady scent of cinnamon and frankincense; long for it to cover my faults from the world; want it to guard me from the blinding light.

I am fickle with my choice of darkness, now that I have become more acquainted with its capabilities. Not just any shade will sate my desires. I do not care for the turbulent pitch that is laced with chaos. Nor do I enjoy the righteous darkness that seeks to fulfill its concept of justice and protects only the purest light. I choose, instead, a shadow that is merged with crimson and silver, sharpened to an edge of danger.

I will only be fulfilled by a darkness that understands the true meaning of justice, but chooses revenge instead. I love the darkness that raids souls in the witching hour; haunting those who bring its possessions to harm. I will only hold claim for the dark that comprehends loneliness and will keep close anything it deems worthy, even a bloodied, tainted light.

Light may seek out its counterpart of either turmoil or protection, but this tainted light will have neither. This light has been consumed by a more enthralling darkness. I have Bakura.

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